


And Make It Double

by rionaleonhart



Category: Pokemon (anime), Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-15
Updated: 2007-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:40:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24285232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rionaleonhart/pseuds/rionaleonhart
Summary: Pokémon training. How hard can it be?
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	And Make It Double

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't fully co-written, but I owe parts of it to [dracothelizard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracothelizard), who sent me a few snippets that I worked into the fic!

Looking back, Richard can’t explain exactly how or when they crossed the border into madness. All he can remember is the three of them walking along a path through the woods, none of them with the slightest idea of where they are, none of them prepared to admit it. James excuses himself and slinks off into the woods for a slash, and Richard and Jeremy are amusing themselves by speculating on exactly how lost he’s going to manage to get, and then suddenly the ground gives way and the next thing Richard is aware of is being _extremely uncomfortable_ , because there’s earth in his mouth and an elbow in his ribs and Clarkson is sprawled over him, which is something he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy and would wish even less on himself.

Since Clarkson hasn’t started shouting yet, Richard assumes that he must be unconscious. That’s probably not going to make getting out of here any easier.

He’s barely had time to mutter an expletive and start trying to extricate himself when a voice shrieks “I don’t _believe_ it!” and the face of a clearly irate woman appears at the top of the pit they have apparently fallen into.

Richard, who was just about to summon up his most endearing expression and ask her for help, is momentarily struck dumb by the sheer, astonishing ridiculousness of her hair. It is the most amazing thing that he has ever seen. He immediately resolves to bring it up when his co-presenters next decide to mock his use of hair products.

“One of our traps finally works, and we caught the _wrong people!_ ” the woman rages, flailing her arms overdramatically.

Wait, what?

“ _You_ dug this?” he demands. “What the hell _for?_ ”

“Calm down, Jessie,” a nervous male voice says. Richard cranes his neck, but being trapped under a Jeremy Clarkson at the bottom of a pit gives a slightly limited visual range, and he can’t see whether the owner of the voice has similarly spectacular hair. “These people still might have Pokémon we can steal.”

Richard wonders whether the most experienced members of the criminal trade usually loudly announce their names and intentions within earshot of their would-be victims. He supposes that Clarkson probably would, if he were ever to turn to a life of crime, which isn’t exactly a recommendation. He also wonders what on Earth ‘Pokémon’ are.

“Good thinking, James!” the woman – ‘Jessie’ – says, her tone suddenly gleeful. Just when Richard thinks that things can’t possibly become any more ridiculous, she strikes a pose. “Prepare for trouble!”

“And make it double!” the man adds, leaping to stand next to her, and Richard is able to get a proper look at him for the first time. His hair, despite being an extremely odd colour, is styled much more normally than Jessie’s, but Richard barely has time to register this before becoming distracted by the fact that he is wearing a skirt.

“To protect the world from devastation!”

“To unite all – ”

“Er, hello?” Richard interrupts. “I have no idea who you people are or why you’ve decided to trap us, but being down here means that I can see right up your skirt, er, James.”

James shrieks in a startlingly girlish fashion and leaps back from the brink of the pit. For a moment, Richard wonders whether he might have been mistaken in his initial assumption that the voice belonged to a man, and then he reminds himself that ‘James’ wasn’t exactly on the Top Ten of Girls’ Names the last time he checked.

The woman stares in the direction James disappeared to with an expression of disdain, and then she wheels and points dramatically down into the pit. “Hand over your Pokémon!” she demands.

“What are – ”

“Hey, hey, you’ve got to finish the motto! I haven’t even gotten to introduce myself yet!” a cat protests, running up to Jessie.

Richard blinks. He tries to rub his eyes, but the weight of Jeremy is pinning his arms down, so he just blinks again.

It is still a cat.

And it is still talking.

In a New York accent.

“The name’s Meowth,” it says, with an air of pride, “and you’ve been captured by Team Rocket. Now, just hand over your Pokémon and nobody gets hurt.”

It says ‘Team Rocket’ as if everyone ought to know it, but Richard is still at a loss. Not that that’s the foremost of his concerns, as he has quite clearly gone absolutely mad and is hallucinating vividly. He suspects that it probably comes of hanging around with Jeremy Clarkson for too long.

“This is stupid,” he says, “and I refuse to talk to a cat.” He intends to go on, but is interrupted by a groan and a shifting against his legs. Clarkson is clearly coming around.

“Mfwhlfhr,” he says, and then, rather muffled, “...Hamster? Would you mind explaining why my face is in your crotch?”

“I’ll be able to once you’ve taken it out of there,” Richard says, and then, as Jeremy complies, “We’ve fallen into a trap set by a crossdresser and a talking cat.”

“What about me? I did all the work!” Jessie yells, clearly furious.

Jeremy sits up, thereby applying more pressure to Richard’s left thigh than Richard is sure he can take, and looks at him extremely oddly. “Richard, have you been taking drugs?”

“I’m starting to think I might’ve,” Richard says, through gritted teeth. “Please get off my leg, Jeremy.”

“Er, excuse me?” James has returned – now, mercifully, clad in trousers – and is gazing anxiously down at them. “I know you’re probably busy, but could we please have your Pokémon?”

Jeremy looks at Richard, who is busy revelling in his leg not feeling as if it’s about to drop off. “Our what?”

Richard shrugs. “Don’t have a clue what they are, but they want to steal them from us,” he explains, not especially helpfully.

Jeremy looks up at James, his expression one of utmost incredulity. “That was supposed to be _stealing?_ ”

“There’s no reason not to be polite,” James says, a little defensively – and then he yelps as Jessie hits him, almost knocking him down into the pit.

“We don’t have any Pokéthings,” Jeremy says, loudly. “Let us out.”

There is a brief silence.

“I don’t believe you. Give me your belt,” Jessie demands.

Jeremy stares at her. He then transfers the stare to Richard, who can only shrug in bewilderment.

They are just unbuckling their belts to appease this lunatic when they hear a voice.

“Excuse me, have you seen a very tall and a rather short bloke come by here? They were probably shouting at each other.”

“James!” Jeremy calls, delighted.

The Team Rocket James turns eagerly, and then looks slightly embarrassed when the out-of-sight James says, “Jeremy?”

And then, to Richard’s immense relief, the welcome face and relatively unsilly hair of James May appear over the edge of the pit.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen.”

“Oh, James, thank God you’re here. We’ve been kidnapped by a talking cat.”

“I can’t say I didn’t expect it,” James says. “Hang on; I’ll try to dig down a bit.”

(“Should we stop him?” he hears the Team Rocket James ask, some degree of concern in his voice.

“They don’t have any Pokémon,” Jessie says dismissively – and then, sounding more interested, “Wait, what if the _new_ one has Pokémon?”

“But he’s not in the trap.” Team Rocket James definitely sounds very worried now. “What if we get blasted off?”

“Is that some sort of euphemism?” Jeremy asks, looking askance at Richard.)

Before too long, the two of them are able to scramble out of the trap.

“Slow to the rescue, in more ways than one,” Jeremy remarks. “Where the hell _were_ you, James?”

James gives an odd half-proud, half-sheepish grin. He takes something tenderly from inside his jacket and presents it to them.

It is an enormous caterpillar.

“James,” Richard says, after a long pause. “What is that?”

-

Some time later, Richard is still staring at James in disbelief. Jeremy, meanwhile, has dug through James’ purchases, come up with a box of something called ‘Pokémon Treats’ and is dangling one over the caterpillar-thing’s head, high enough to be unreachable and low enough to be frustrating, while it stretches up for it and makes distressed chirping noises. Eventually, James thwacks Jeremy and gives the treat to the caterpillar, which eats it happily and then crawls up onto his arm. Jeremy glares at him and stalks off.

"So let me get this straight," Richard says, eyeing James' new pet. "They have animals here called Pokémon, and kids and adults catch them, train them, and make them fight each other?" 

"That's what the booklet told me," James replies. "Apparently, some of them breathe fire or spread sleep dust."

"But kids make these animals fight each other? Until they're unconscious? But that's animal cruelty!" Richard grabs the helpful booklet James has picked up during his excursion and flicks through it, trying to find something redeeming about the whole thing. "Oh, well, they have hospitals called Pokécentres where they can be healed! Well, that makes it all right, then." He snorts with disgust. 

"If it's any consolation, I don't intend to have Caterpie fight anything. For starters, I don't think it can." 

"Cater-what?"

"Caterpie." James looks slightly embarrassed. "Apparently that's the kind of Pokémon it is, and, well, I'm horrible at naming animals, so I thought that for now I would just call it Caterpie." 

Richard stares at the enormous caterpillar crawling on James' arm. "Right." A thought occurs to him. “So, hypothetically, while Jeremy’s off sulking, he could run into some sort of animal that will set him on fire?”

James looks sidelong at him, through the curtain of hair falling around his face, and smiles. “Hypothetically, yes.”

Richard grins. “Fantastic.” He reaches out to gingerly touch the Caterpie, and laughs when it rubs its head against his hand and makes a happy almost-purring noise. “I wonder if any of them are like dogs?”

After a moment, James suggests that maybe they should make sure that Jeremy hasn’t got himself killed, and Richard, with a show of reluctance, agrees. They get to their feet, the Caterpie crawling up and curling itself around James’ shoulders for balance, and it’s only then that Richard notices that Team Rocket is still there.

James – not their James, the other James, the Team Rocket James – is looking down at himself with something resembling wonder. “Jessie,” he says, in a hushed, excited whisper. “We’re not being blown up.”

“Or electrocuted,” she says, sounding oddly ecstatic, “or set on fire.”

Richard briefly wonders what sort of life someone would have to lead in order to be _surprised_ by this, and then he remembers that barely a _Top Gear_ episode goes by where they don’t manage at least one of the three.

-

It’s really fairly easy for them to locate Jeremy; they just follow the shouting. Richard can’t help wondering who or what he’s shouting at, however, as it certainly can’t be either of them.

“You don’t think he’s found a Pokémon, do you?” James asks, sounding slightly worried. Richard can understand his concern; he can imagine that Jeremy would probably catch one to see what it tasted like, and he can’t be sure that that’s entirely legal.

They manage to trace the sound of yelling to a small clearing some distance into the woods.

“Go away! Shoo! Bad... thing!”

Richard raises his eyebrows. Jeremy is shouting at a large orange lizard, which is looking up at him with a rather perplexed expression.

“Charmander char?” the lizard asks.

James’ Caterpie chirps and crawls down to the ground. The lizard turns to face it.

“Charmander?”

"James, does that thing have anything to do with that thing of yours?" Jeremy asks. "What the hell is it?"

Richard leafs through the booklet. “It’s a Charmander,” he says. “This says it’s a ‘fire type’, which, I suppose, somehow explains why its tail’s on fire.”

“Right,” Jeremy says. “What does it do, besides saying its own name all the time? And how do I get rid of it?”

Richard is somewhat distracted by the fact that the two Pokémon appear to be having some sort of conversation; Caterpie chirping and gesturing with its tail, the Charmander nodding and looking oddly thoughtful for a lizard. Eventually, the Charmander exclaims “Charmander!”, walks determinedly over to Jeremy and hugs his legs.

“I think you may have a Pokémon,” James says, obviously trying to contain his snickering.

“I don’t _want_ a Pokémon!” Jeremy protests, looking with some apprehension at the flaming tip of the Charmander’s tail, which is hovering rather too close to his jeans for comfort.

Richard stares at the entry for Charizard. “Jez, you’re going to like this one.”

“This had better be good, Hammond,” Jeremy says, staring at the creature at his feet. “What is it? Does it give a recipe for them?”

“No,” Richard says, turning the booklet around to show Jeremy the picture of a fully-evolved Charizard. “But that thing is going to turn into a five-foot-seven fire-breathing dragon.”

Jeremy looks at the picture. “Five-foot-seven?”

Richard nods.

“It’s going to be taller than you,” Jeremy says, a grin creeping across his face.

“It’s _not_ going to be taller than me!” Richard protests. “It’s – all right, it’s going to be _as_ tall as me, but – ” He shakes his head, horrified, and decides that not giving Jeremy the chance to evolve his new Pokémon is the only hope he has if he doesn’t want to be mocked _for ever_. “Run away, Charmander! You won’t like him; he’s a rubbish owner.”

“Char,” the Charmander says, gazing adoringly up at Jeremy. Jeremy smirks and pats it on the head.

-

It’s a few days later, and the three of them seem to have settled into being in the wrong world remarkably quickly. Jeremy is loudly confident that, at some point, they’ll find some sort of way back into their own world; for now, they’re fairly content as they are.

“Where’s Hammond?” Jeremy asks idly, lying on the grass.

“I think he said he was going to look for something,” James says. He is sitting with his back against a tree and his Caterpie curled up in his lap, basking happily in the afternoon sun.

Jeremy makes an indistinct noise, and they stay in comfortable silence for some time. Eventually, Richard’s diminutive form comes into view, walking carefully towards them across the grass, and Jeremy gets to his feet, grinning.

The grin fades into a somewhat perplexed expression as Richard gets closer.

"Richard, what the hell did you pick up?" Jeremy asks, frowning.

Richard is carrying a red furry bundle. "It's another one of those Pokémon. This one's a Vulpix." 

"Does it eventually become a fire-breathing dragon that's taller than you?" 

"Well, no."

"Useless, then."

"Vulpix," Richard says, with a grin, "Ember." 

Once the fire has died down and James has finally stopped laughing, Jeremy reassures himself that his hair is still there and that his clothes aren't too badly singed. "All right, maybe not completely useless."

Richard smirks. Jeremy gets the distinct impression that he’s been dying to do that ever since he found the Pokémon.

“How did you get it?” Jeremy asks, eyeing the fox-thing with grudging respect.

Richard suddenly looks rather shifty. “Er,” he says.

“You _bought_ it, didn’t you?” Jeremy says, delighted.

“They’re rare!” Richard protests.

“Which means they’re _expensive_ ,” Jeremy says, reaching inexpressible levels of glee. “I got my lizard for _free_.” He takes prompt and unfair advantage of the fact that Richard’s arms are full of Vulpix by snatching the paper bag from his hand. “What else did you get?”

(“Are you going to name the Vulpix?” James asks, walking over and tickling her under her chin.

Richard stops glaring indignantly at Jeremy and instead looks at James with incredulity. “I called our dog _Top Gear Dog_. What do _you_ think?”)

“Oh, God,” Jeremy says, rifling through the bag. “He’s found haircare products in this insane world. Never mind that we’re running out of food, no, Mr. Hammond had to – Rich, this is for dogs.”

Richard has the decency to look a bit embarrassed. “They’re very high-maintenance, these Vulpixes. You have to take care of them or they’ll just get snippy.”

(“It’s actually ‘Vulpix’, not ‘Vulpixes’,” James points out quietly. “The plural is always the same as the singular.” Richard gives him the finger.)

“So, they’re just like you, then,” Jeremy concludes.

Richard flushes and adjusts his hold on the Vulpix, which stretches its paws out and yawns. “I bet she can beat your Charmander.”

James raises his eyebrows. “What happened to ‘Pokémon battling is animal cruelty’?”

“I’m not _going_ to fight him,” Richard says hastily, holding the Vulpix a little tighter. “I’m just saying Vulpix would beat it.”

“You’re wrong,” Jeremy says.

Richard glares at him. “I’m not going to fight you.”

Jeremy smirks; he knows that Richard’s competitive streak won’t allow him to resist a challenge for long.

-

Three days later, Richard finally snaps and challenges Jeremy to a fight. Jeremy would probably be more smug about getting him to betray his principles were it not for the fact that Richard wins.

-

The next morning, when Jeremy wakes up, the first thing he notices is that James is missing. This bothers him. He understands that James is an adult and should probably be trusted to look after himself – although he can never be sure with James – but it seems that there are many things in this world that can set a person on fire or electrocute him or scratch his face off, and the only thing James has to defend himself with is a bloody _Caterpie_.

Eventually, after getting into a shouting match with that Team Rocket woman for no good reason, getting sidetracked by a Pokémon battle with Richard (which Richard wins, much to Jeremy’s irritation), and almost getting a new Pokémon (an interesting insect thing with mushrooms growing out of it, which eventually makes a frustrated clicking noise and sprays him with an odd sort of dust that knocks him out for half an hour), Jeremy finally manages to track down his co-presenter.

He raises his eyebrows.

James is crouching by a shallow pool of water, fondly rubbing his thumb along the ridge on the back of a large orange fish.

“What is that?” Jeremy asks, careful not to let his voice betray the fact that he was ever remotely worried.

James starts so violently that Jeremy bursts out laughing. He glares.

“It’s called a Magikarp,” he says, when he’s recovered his composure.

“What does it do?” Jeremy asks, poking it with his foot. It makes a wheezing noise and flops around on his shoe.

“That’s essentially it,” James says.

There is a pause, during which the Magikarp attempts to nibble at the bottom of Jeremy’s trouser leg.

“Well, James,” Jeremy says eventually. “I didn’t think it was possible, but this ‘Magikarp’ is even more useless than your caterpillar thing. Can we eat it?”

“No,” James says. “Firstly because he’s mine, and secondly because they taste awful.”

“So you can’t even _eat_ it? It really is _completely_ useless, isn’t it?”

“It’s funny you should say that,” James says. “I was thinking of naming it after you.”

-

James trains Jeremy the Magikarp diligently, much to the amusement of his co-presenters, who will frequently come along to watch Jeremy flop uselessly at his opponent and laugh themselves half to death. His namesake develops an odd sort of fondness for ‘Useless Fish’, as he insists on referring to him, and goes through a period of trying to teach him tricks, which he quickly gives up on when it becomes apparent that he is much too impatient and Useless Fish is much too stupid.

“Do you think Useless Fish is getting any stronger?” Jeremy asks Richard one day, when they’re watching him flail around and splash water at a mildly irritated-looking purple rat.

“I think he’s a bit of a lost cause, to be honest,” Richard responds, looking at James, who determinedly ignores them and mutters encouraging things to his fish.

-

One day, Jeremy shakes Richard awake – something that he has told him to stop doing many, many times, and which he cheerfully continues to do – and says, urgently, “I can’t find James. I think he must’ve found a new place to train Useless Fish without us mocking him.”

Richard blinks. “I don’t care,” he says, eventually.

Jeremy snorts. “Yes, you do.” He pulls him to his feet. “We can’t let him get away with not being mocked. Come on, help me find him.”

Richard is reluctant at first, but soon he gets into the spirit of the hunt. It takes almost half an hour of aimless wandering around before it suddenly occurs to him that his Vulpix might be able to track scent. As it turns out, she can, and she leads the two of them to a large lake set deep in the forest.

Richard stares. He rubs his eyes, he stares again, and eventually he manages to mentally process the fact that yes, that really _is_ James May sitting on the back of a giant sea monster.

“What the hell is _that?_ ” Jeremy demands from beside him.

“It’s Jeremy,” James calls, obviously very pleased with himself.

“It is _not_ Jeremy,” Jeremy shouts. “Believe me, I’d know if you were riding – wait, _that’s_ Useless Fish?”

“Not any more.” James caresses the side of the monster’s head. It makes a noise halfway between a purr and the sound of all the Aston Martins in the Universe starting up at once, and then it leans over to the shore – Richard takes a few rapid steps back – and allows James to gently dismount. “The tables have turned, sir.”

Jeremy is still staring at the creature, open-mouthed.

“And you – ” he begins eventually, visibly stunned – “you can – you can control that thing, can you? It listens to you?”

James grins. “If you want one, Jeremy, all you need is a Magikarp and a lot of dedication.”

“I’m not jealous!” Jeremy says, quickly.

-

Jeremy stalks around, scowling. His co-presenter has a _giant sea monster_ , and all he has is a silly lizard that could probably be killed by a bit of light rain, and...

He stops abruptly. Team Rocket are ahead of him, Jessie pacing restlessly and occasionally shouting at the other two.

“We _have_ to manage it this time! We haven’t stolen anything for _months_ , and if the boss cuts our pay again I won’t be able to afford the care my beautiful hair needs!”

“Isn’t it a bit stupid for an organised crime gang to wear uniforms?” Jeremy asks, loudly. “I use the term ‘organised’ loosely, of course.”

“ _Who asked you?_ ” Jessie demands, rounding on him, and Jeremy is suddenly struck by an idea.

“You steal Pokémon, don’t you?” he asks. “Or you try to, anyway.”

“Of course!” Jessie says, proudly.

Jeremy, wondering absently why they haven’t yet been arrested if they wear uniforms and confess to their thieving intentions at the slightest opportunity, continues. “My friend’s got one of those Gyarados things,” – Team Rocket James whimpers and cowers at the mention of the Pokémon, he notes with interest – “and it’s very important that I beat him in a Pokémon battle. Hypothetically, if I helped you to steal something good, could I borrow it for just long enough to beat him and gloat a bit?”

Jessie stares at him.

“Pikachu’s Electric,” Meowth says, sounding intrigued. “It could be good against one of those things.”

“James,” Jessie commands. “Give him your uniform.”

-

It’s been a long time since they last encountered Team Rocket, Ash thinks as he walks through the underground passageway, Pikachu sitting on his shoulder. It seems too much to hope that they’ll actually have _given up_ trying to capture Pikachu after God knows how long, but he still hasn’t seen them for a good while. He’s almost beginning to miss them.

Suddenly, the lights snap off and they are plunged into darkness. Misty sighs, loudly. They know what’s coming.

There is a brief scuffling noise and irritated muttering – “Do I _have_ to say this?” “Don’t you _dare_ question the motto.” “This is ridiculous.” – before the inevitable dramatic music starts up.

“Prepare for trouble!”

“And make it double.”

“Oh, not _again_ ,” Brock groans. Ash is frowning. There’s something odd about this, but he can’t quite work out what it is.

“To protect the world from devastation!”

“To unite all people within our nation.”

There it is again: the second voice is unfamiliar, however familiar the words may be. It’s a different person, Ash is sure.

“It’s ‘ _peoples_ ’, you idiot!” Jessie hisses, very audibly, before launching into the next line. “To denounce the evils of truth and love!”

“To extend our reach to the stars above.”

Two spotlights suddenly come on from God-knows-where, illuminating Jessie and the stranger. Ash has often wondered exactly how much time and effort Team Rocket put into setting up their visual effects in advance.

“Jessie!”

“Jeremy!”

“What?” Misty asks, bewildered.

-

Jeremy hadn’t really expected to be able to fit into the skinny young man’s uniform, but somehow, miraculously, it is a perfect fit. He supposes that, in a world in which foxes can breathe fire and James May is actually ahead of him at something, a uniform that seems able to magically change its dimensions is nothing remarkable.

It is unfortunate, however, because tight white uniforms are definitely not his style. As he says “Surrender now or prepare to fight!”, standing there in the stupidest get-up he’s never golfed in, he feels utterly ridiculous. Jessie had refused to let him come along without the uniform – as she said, “We have to uphold our image!”

Jeremy thinks that this Pikachu thing had bloody well better be worth it.

Jessie steps forward, with a dramatic toss of her head. “We want Pikachu!” she announces.

“We know,” a red-headed girl says, obviously not interested. She is staring intently at Jeremy. “What happened to James?”

Jeremy looks over the three kids in front of him. They’re obviously familiar with Team Rocket; they don’t seem especially affected by Jessie’s demand. One even has his eyes closed. That’s good, as it means that they won’t be completely on guard, which will probably make things easier. He does feel very slightly bothered by the fact that what he is planning to do essentially amounts to stealing a child’s pet, but humiliating James is much more important than any silly scruples he may have.

“James is dead,” he improvises. Jessie looks sharply at him, and he shoots her a look – _play along_.

The girl and the boy with the silly cap look deeply shocked.

“What happened?” the boy asks after a moment, his voice sounding oddly strained.

Jeremy raises an eyebrow. From what Team Rocket has told him, he’d got the impression that this little group are constantly being harassed by them, and so he didn’t really expect them to seem genuinely – well, _upset_. Still, it certainly seems to have succeeded in distracting them, and they don’t seem to notice Meowth sneaking very quietly up behind them.

“Er,” Jeremy begins, racking his brain for something plausible – and then something occurs to him, and it almost seems _too_ evil, but – “All the electric shocks put too much strain on his heart,” he says, gravely.

Jessie very nearly ruins the whole thing by cracking up laughing. The cap-kid looks utterly devastated. Meowth creeps closer.

And then there is a burst of hysterical laughter, and Jeremy very nearly has a heart-attack himself. Their would-be victims whip around to see Meowth, who immediately attempts without success to look innocent, and Richard Hammond, who has just rounded the corner and is now on his hands and knees on the floor of the passageway, laughing himself silly.

“Oh, God,” Jeremy says, wondering whether immediately stripping would actually be any more humiliating than staying in the _stupid, stupid uniform_. When he realises that Richard has managed to gather himself enough to start digging in his pocket for a camera, he turns and flees, ignoring Jessie’s furious yelling.

-

That didn’t work, Jeremy concludes, and so he has to resort to the law-abiding and tedious process of training his Charmander until it’s powerful enough to defeat that stupid sea monster. He briefly considers having it set fire to a forest, in the hope that it will somehow gain experience from every Pokémon that burns, but Richard, when he has _finally_ stopped laughing about the bloody Team Rocket uniform, objects rather strongly to this idea. Jeremy, who is not genuinely unethical enough to actually carry out his plan but determined to fight for his right to, proposes a battle to decide whether he gets to burn down the countryside or not. Richard wins.

For Jeremy, training rapidly becomes an obsession. When he finally manages to defeat Richard in battle – his Pokémon has evolved into a Charmeleon by this time – he crows triumphantly and performs a spontaneous victory dance while Richard gathers his Vulpix in his arms and hurries her to a Pokémon centre. His co-presenters begin to worry about his health when Jeremy begins to skip nights of sleep, instead spending them out in the woods, training his Pokémon as much as he can.

One morning, Jeremy, tired but triumphant, staggers into the clearing where his co-presenters are preparing breakfast and points dramatically at James.

“Pokémon battle,” he announces. “Now.”

-

When they finally stop running, Jeremy admits that, all right, maybe it _wasn’t_ a good idea to push his Pokémon quite so hard, because nobody wants a fire-breathing dragon with a grudge.

Richard flops down on the grass, releases his Vulpix and tries to calm her down. James checks that both of his Pokémon are safe. Jeremy looks back with a mixture of guilt and nervousness at the wide swathe of destruction burnt through the trees.

“Prat,” James says.

“Maybe I should give up this training thing,” Jeremy says uncomfortably.

-

Two days later, they encounter a Pokémon that snorts and splays its hooves and lashes its three tails violently. Jeremy _wants_ it. 


End file.
